Irony
by RileyMLG
Summary: How ironic. Draco Malfoy, falling in love with a Pureblood... on accident. Astoria Greengrass, falling in love... at all. He's bitter. She's snarky. He's sarcastic. She's quick witted. He hates himself- she hates everyone. It certainly had a bit of irony. ON HIATUS AT THE MOMENT, WILL BE COMPLETED SOMEDAY
1. Prologue

oOo

How ironic. Draco Malfoy, falling in love with a Pureblood... on accident.

Astoria Greengrass, falling in love... at all.

Their family's have always said the world was barking because of the aftermath of the War. They both decided the world was barking anyway.

He's bitter. She's snarky. He's sarcastic. She's quick witted. He hates himself- she hates everyone. Neither was looking for love and neither were quite sure they found it, either. After the Dark Lord was destroyed and their families were no longer protected by the Ministry- if you could call it that- they each had a lot more on their minds than Pureblooded marriage.

Draco's family thought otherwise. He was supposed to marry her cousin, Pansy Parkinson.

Astoria, as she hated everyone, gave special loathing to Pansy. Even before Draco Malfoy came along, Pansy and Astoria were butting heads. Pansy was as shallow as she was dim, though, so most of Astoria's more cleverer insults were hurled over her cousin's head, but Pansy got the gist of the more simpler ones and has done anything in her power to see Astoria's downfall.

When Astoria heard of her cousin's courtship, naturally decided to hate him as much as Pansy. Being two years younger than them, she never had to interact with Draco directly, but shooting daggers and balking at his title of Slytherin Price was sufficient enough.

Frankly, after the war, she could care less about him. Could care less about anybody, really. Her mother was trying to set her up with another daft Pureblood and her father drinking the family into debt, the only thing she cared about was securing a job for the near future, which she needed to accomplish by re-doing her fifth year at Hogwarts. Just three more years of school and then she can hightail herself out of her manor and achieve her dream job, an Unspeakable for the Ministry.

After the war, he didn't seem to stand a chance in society- his family was frowned upon by other Purebloods for their traitorous act which resulted in helping the Dark Lord's demise and they were positively _hated_ for their involvement in the Dark Arts by the Order. With nowhere to turn but to finish his seventh year at Hogwarts, he decided to do just that. One more year attempting to mingle with society before completely shunning himself from the world.

What's a few more years to either of them? Alas, it certainly had a twinge of irony to it, none the less.


	2. The Head Compartment

oOo

"Mother," he said formally, nodding at her on the platform. "I'll owl you."

Narcissa Malfoy's pale blue eyes shone with tears. The last time she led her son onto Platform 9 ¾, it was the last time she saw him before the Dark Lord intruded into their home. "Everyday," she insisted, patting his arm affectionately, a rare smile gracing her white face.

"We'll see," he responded with a smirk of his own. Biting her lip as not to sob uncontrollably, she gave Draco a final hug before allowing him to step onto the train.

The smirk dropped off his face the second he entered the steaming engine. Everyone grew silent, staring wide eyed at him. That was to be expected, though, and he was prepared. Gathering every ounce of dignity he could find, he strolled into the corridor and into the Head's compartment without a glance back.

When he first found out he was Head Boy, he had thrown up. Why in the world had McGonagall made a former Death Eater head of the entire student body? Being trusted with power is not something he could handle.

It also may have had something to do with the fact that the Head Girl was Granger.

Watching her getting tortured in his very own house really put things into perspective for him. He's been under the Cruciatous Curse before, and he's always offered up whatever information possible to get it to stop. Granger didn't say a word against her friends. He guessed she wasn't that bad anymore.

After the war, he realized that Muggles and Mudb- Muggle-borns- just weren't worth it. Why have an entire battle, with heavy losses on both sides, when you could just end it and leave them be? Who cares if Muggles can't perform magic- just let them run free and do whatever they do with their electricity and microwaves. Muggle-borns clearly have magic in them, so why deny them a chance to use it? Draco decided he would never discriminate against them again. He really didn't need anymore hate in his life.

Looking through the window of the empty and luxurious Head compartment, he smirked. Scarhead and Weasel were seeing off Granger and Weaselette- how cute. It truly was amusing to watch Scarhead try to discreetly snog Weaselette when her brother wasn't watching. Too soon, a tearful female Weasley boarded the train, leaving The-Chosen-One with an expression of pure agony on his face. One would guess he was having emotional problems after the war. Draco would laugh, but he had them too.

Now it was just the Weasel and Granger. They seemed to be exchanging words of comfort- and a snog- before she boarded the train too.

Potter and Weasley must have been accepted into the Ministry or an Auror Programme, living happily ever after and all. Draco idly wondered if that could have been his life, if he was born into another family.

Tensing himself for when Hermione walked in, he was concentrating on what he would say to convince her not to curse him into oblivion that he didn't even notice her arrival.

Looking up about five minutes later, he nearly flipped, seeing the annoyingly familiar bushy brunette hair peeking over the top of a textbook.

"Bloody- Merlin's pants! When did you- ah, never mind. Erm, Granger," he nodded finally, blood rushing into his pale cheeks. She offered a smile.

"Hello, Malfoy," she said pleasantly, as if she hadn't almost been murdered in his house mere months ago. Bloody Gryffindor.

He was stunned. If he was in her place, he would have ended himself ages ago.

"Granger-" he hastened to talk to her, but she cut him off with a wave of her hand.

"Look, Malfoy, I know you want to talk about... things, but can that wait until later?" she asked kindly. "We still have to get through the Prefects meeting, and I'd like to, you know, not be a complete emotional wreck," she joked dryly. He just nodded, dumbfound. How could she be so nonchalant about all of this?

Smiling happily and returning to her ancient textbook, Draco just looked out the window of the moving scarlet train, praying to Merlin that their 'talk' later would allow him out in one piece.

He was jerked out of his train of thought about five minutes later when kids started pouring into the compartment, almost all shying away from him and opting to sit closer to Granger.

"Why are there midgets in our compartment?" he hissed to her in panic. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"For the Prefect meeting, of course." she explained, knotting her frizzy curls into a coffee colored bun before turning to face the other children.

"Welcome, Prefects, to a _real_ year at Hogwarts. Last year... wasn't the best. Since no one received a quality education, everyone is required to repeat the year. I'm Hermione Granger, Head Girl," she said with a bright smile. She then nodded to Draco to introduce himself.

"Draco Malfoy. Head Boy."

A rush of whispering spread throughout the compartment at his proclamation.

"Oh, honestly," a dark haired Slytherin girl scoffed. "it's not like you lot didn't see him when you walked in! Bloody stop gossiping and leave the bloke alone!"

"You're only saying that because you're a Slytherin too." A sixth year Ravenclaw said nastily.

"That's quite enough, Mr. Jest." Hermione said firmly. "Thank you, Miss...?"

The inky haired girl smiled. "Greengrass. Astoria Greengrass."


End file.
